


...but your hands are always better

by queenhomeslice



Series: I Wanna Ride My Chocoboy All Day: Prompto/Reader Stories [28]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Chubby Reader, Cowgirl Position, Curvy Reader, Established Relationship, F/M, Masturbation, fat reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Prompt: Can you write a fanfiction about one of the Chocobros getting walked in by their gf while taking care of themselves.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Reader
Series: I Wanna Ride My Chocoboy All Day: Prompto/Reader Stories [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554340
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	...but your hands are always better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lovely_trash32](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovely_trash32/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.  
> _____  
> Coffee request for Lovely_trash32!!! I hope this hit all the right notes, babe. Enjoy! Thank you so so much for your consistent support. (And I assume this is what you meant when you said "taking care of themselves"...uh, if not, I'm dumb and I'm sorry and will write you something new, lmao.) I feel like it's been a hot minute since I wrote our fave Chocoboy, so I hope that was okay. :)

Prompto lies in his big king bed, naked and clean and hot, fresh from the shower he’s just taken. His hair is void of its usual product, damp and flat, long bangs pushed out of his eyes. He idly thinks about getting a haircut later, but the thought recedes to the back of his mind in lieu of other things—namely, the growing interest he’s had between his legs since before he even showered. 

He reaches to click on the lamp on the bedside table, and reaches for the lube in the drawer, and his eye catches the framed photo of himself and ________, laughing at last summer’s Founder’s Day Festival. Prompto’s arm is around her, and they’re both wearing Moogle hats, complete with purple-topped antennae that bob when you move. Faces squished up into smiles, eyes closed, cheeks ruddy with being out in the sun all day. 

Prompto bites his lip as he groans, looking at his gorgeous girlfriend. The picture only makes him feel more interested. Even on her worst days, when she’s feeling like shit about herself and her body, Prompto still thinks she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. He flops back and flips open the lube cap, spilling a little too much on his fingers but he doesn’t care. He grabs the base of his cock and slicks up the shaft and whines, imagining that it’s her hands touching him, her mouth on him, her warm pussy milking out his very soul. 

Prompto had always been nervous around girls, usually the third wheel at parties or outings where there were an overflow of couples—hell, even just the _thought_ of a pretty girl was enough to make him tongue-tied and flustered, and you can straight-up _forget_ trying to talk to them. On the rare blessed occasion that Prompto managed to get a number and a date, it usually ended with a peck on the cheek and a _Thanks, you’re really nice, but there’s just not any chemistry_. He’d resigned himself to be lonely—and worse, a virgin—forever. 

Until _she_ showed up, bursting into his life like sunlight peeking through parting rainclouds. Suddenly everything in his life was sunshine and chocobos and rainbows. Prompto’s first real kiss had caught him by surprise—she’d initiated it, grabbing his tank top and pulling him down to her level after their third arcade date, biting his lips and sucking on his tongue—Prompto had felt like he’d been about to pass out from the emotion. It’d only gotten better over the past year, and Prompto thinks that he’s at the pinnacle of life right now. 

_Or,_ he would be, if only she were here right now in this moment. He arches his back and exhales slowly, working over his throbbing erection with sticky hands and calloused fingers. ___________ is at work, and today is Prompto’s off day from Crownsguard training—he didn’t even wake up early to run. He'd slept in late, had leftover cold pizza, and had burned himself out on console games and chores. Noctis and Ignis are in meetings all day, and Gladio’s who-knows-where, so he hasn’t even texted his friends that much. Prompto lets his thoughts drift as he strokes himself lazily, thinking of all the mind-blowing sex that he has on the regular, thinking of the way __________’s face lights up when she sees him, her cute blush when she’s asking if they can go out to her favorite noodle truck on the weekends, the way she looks after he kisses her... 

Prompto gets lost in his thoughts of his love as he grips himself hard, edging and edging for what feels like hours in his bed. He’s worked himself into a sweat, cock red and angry and leaking—he teases his perineum as he sobs softly, moaning, feeling that precipice build yet again, wave cresting higher and higher—

He grips the base of his cock, staving off orgasm one more time—and that’s when he hears the click of the lock on the front door. 

_______ 

“Hey, Prom, I’m home!” you call, kicking off your shoes and hanging up your purse on the coat rack. You’ve just worked for over nine hours at the local grocery store, and you feel worn out. You survey the foyer and the living room—everything looks clean. You smile to yourself, thankful that Prompto is helpful around the apartment when he’s home and you’re not. You make your way to the kitchen and grab a water bottle from the fridge, downing all 20 ounces in just a few gulps. 

“Prompto?” you call again. Weird, he’s usually responsive if he’s in another room—and more often than not, he’s already in the living room, playing games. Most of the lights are off, except for the floor lamp in the living room and the night light that’s plugged up in the hallway bathroom—but when you get to the bedroom and see Prompto naked on the bed, illuminated by the lamp on the bedside table, you feel your face heat up instantly. 

“Oh, what a nice thing to come home to,” you purr, unbuttoning your jeans as you approach the bed. 

Prompto bites his lip and stills his hand—his pale, lean body is covered in a faint sheen of sweat, and his thick cock is red and throbbing, standing at attention in his fist. “I, uh—hey.” 

“Hey,” you say quietly as you lean down to kiss him. 

Prompto kisses you hungrily, gripping the back of your head in his free hand, whining into your mouth as he writhes on the bed. He pulls away, gasping. “I won’t last if you keep kissing me like that,” he mumbles, threading his long, deft fingers through your hair. 

“Let me shower first, I’m all gross from work.” You bend down to peck his lips one more time and shed your clothes in record time, jumping into the shower and scrubbing yourself clean, touching yourself under the hot water so that you’re ready for him. 

When you come back out into the bedroom, Prompto is very lightly touching his cock, dancing his fingers over the soft velvet head. You feel your heart rate speed up as you watch him, face blushing as it usually does when the two of you are intimate. How someone like Prompto chose someone like you will forever be a mystery, but you’re definitely not complaining. The prince’s best friend is the hottest thing in Insomnia, hell, maybe even all of Lucis. You squeeze the water from your hair with your towel and hang it on the knob of the bathroom door, wasting no time as you crawl into bed with your boyfriend. 

“Oh, _gods—_ ” Prompto’s words cut off into a filthy moan as he drops his hand and you take over stroking his thick shaft. He thrusts his narrow hips up, desperate for friction, hanging by a hair trigger. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” you murmur in praise, grinning when Prompto sniffs hard and cries out, begging for release. “How do you wanna come, Prompto?” 

Prompto’s so turned on he can’t think. He’s not sure he can last long enough to even get you on your back. He swallows hard, gripping the sheets, thighs quaking with the effort of keeping himself from exploding under your ministrations. Before he can answer, you crawl on top of him and straddle his narrow hips with your thick thighs, sinking down onto his hot, hard cock. You groan in ecstasy—Prompto's hard as fuckin’ _d_ _iamonds,_ and he stretches and fills you up in the most delicious way. 

He grabs both of your hands and wastes no time giving you the ride of your life, screaming your name when he finally comes. 


End file.
